Stay With Me
by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer
Summary: Read the title, then know that Voldemort does a lot of thinking about previous happenings. LVHP


by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer

Stay With Me

**Disclaim her**: If I owned Harry Potter, you'd see more things like this, just written better and all Harry/Voldemort fans rejoice.

**_AN:_** _When I say I think one of my stories is lame, I mean that I think that I wrote it lame, not that the plotbunny is crappy. I think that what I wrote during the summer is awesome, but something about being in school or the waning of my super happy creativeness of DOOOOMMMMM +7 has affected my writing. Everything I write sounds like crap._

_Note: Voldie's reminiscing doesn't take the same amount of time that it takes you to read it. Thoughts are lightning-quick or I'd be buried under even MORE bunnies._

_**Story Start!**_

There he lays, exhausted, flushed, and drowsy. Bared before me, he watches unsteadily as I rise and dress. He doesn't seem to notice until I have my hand on the doorknob, then he is plastered to my back, arms locked around my waist, left cheek against my right shoulder blade, and distressed emotions blaring down our link.

"Don't go," he croaks, body shivering.

"I have to," I murmur, causing him to tighten his hold, press his body further into mine as if trying to become one with me.

"Please don't go," he whimpers, turning his head to bury his face into my back.

"Harry, I have to." I really do. If I were to be found in Hogwarts, then they would do everything in their power to figure out how, where, and why. The Room of Requirement would not be safe, despite having my strong will directing its magic to protect me, us.

It's dangerous enough plucking Harry from his bed in Gryffindor Tower when I come to visit since my schedule is so uncertain. I may plan to come one night, but then an emergency pops up and I am delayed or prevented.

Sobbing catches my attention as he clutches me tighter.

That's how I found him... when all this madness started...

My Death Eaters had just gone Muggle Hunting in a small Muggle community known as Surrey. They had needed some action and I wanted some alone time because even if I locked myself away in my chambers I can still sense their auras moving about the rest of the building.

So there I was, wandering through a Muggle alleyway when I faintly heard something a little ways down the alley. I had continued toward the sound, my curiosity getting the better of me, and there I found an injured child of what I believed to be ten or twelve. His hands were a mess of blood, flesh, and splintered bones. A leg and an arm were broken and his lip and nose were bleeding.

Moving closer had alerted him to my pressence and he had looked up, fear and horror shining in his eyes even before he had seen my face. He had reminded me of myself before I had harnessed my magic. I had felt his aura, so I knew he wasn't a Muggle. If someone so young was out that late and injured, then there obviously wouldn't be anyone missing him at home.

Carefully conjuring a stretcher and securing him on there, I had Apparated us and taken him to my room, summoning a nurse on the way.

The nurse had healed him and settled him down in my bed as I read a book in my library, then informed me of his injuries.

Every bone in his hands had been broken, the skin shredded and flesh bruised. A heavy blunt object had caused the initial bruising and breaking, but the boy had been forced to use his hands, no matter how clumsily, and that is what caused the skin to tear and the bones to poke out. His right leg was broken in three different places, probably from a rough tumble down some stairs. The fall had probably also caused his left arm and collarbone to break. His nose was broken from a force going straight towards his face either from a punch or run in with a hard surface such as a wall, floor, or bat. Both his eyes were black and swollen.

Thanks to magic and potions, most of that was healed. His hands and injured leg and arm were in splints for the next two weeks and he had had to stay in bed for the next ten days to ensure his collarbone wouldn't be stressed.

Even after all this I still hadn't known his name, so I asked the nurse, shocking her speechless for an entire twenty minutes. Then, when I finally snapped her out of her trance (not using Crucio, I'm not that stupid to curse my medical staff or at least not angry enough to risk it) she asked why I had saved the child and that I had better not be planning to just abuse him, that being neglected and abused by his family all his life was enough, and it was a silly fight anyways that could easily be fixed by just talking to the lad.

My medical staff get away with far too much.

After much haggling, promises, Wizarding Oaths, etc. I finally managed to extract the name. She told me, but it didn't click. I couldn't grasp the idea that I had unwittingly saved what I thought to just be an another magical child abandoned by their disbelieving Muggle parents; I had saved the abandoned Savior of the Wizarding World, outcast by his Muggle relatives.

The Savior of the Wizarding World as an abused child was a difficult thing to wrap one's mind around after believing the opposite for so long.

So, with great care and acceptance of the fact that I may have had to leave the room in a hurry, I entered my room only to find him fast asleep. The nurse tugged me back into my entrance room to inform me that she had slipped him a Dreamless Sleep potion. I sent her off irritably and spent the next two hours listening to my servants blather on about how many Muggles they killed and how they killed them.

One report in particular caught my attention. Macnair had apparently taken out Harry's relatives, thus thwarting my desire to make them suffer for a very, very long time. So I 'crucio'd him for a good ten minutes and then dismissed them to allow me to head off to bed, my bed where my arch-enemy slept peacefully.

Most of Harry's recovery is a blur in my mind between fighting to keep him in bed and entertained enough so that he didn't seek amusement in disturbing me through our link, but somehow we got into a compromising situation that progressed and complicated itself into such astounding knots that even I cannot hope to ever unravel them. Suffice to say we practically live in one another's head and live on one another's body.

Getting into the same bed with him was one thing, gaining his trust was another that had turned out to be a long and tasking road, but I made it. The Light did a wonderful job of screwing itself over with the abusive Muggles, ex-best friends being too wrapped up in each other to bother with their Savior, and Dumbledork, complete with twinkling eyes and behign smile, telling him that it is all his fault Sirius and his parents are dead because of a prophesy made about him before he was born.

And now, here we are, near the end of the school year and Harry has seen the depth of the Light's deception, how similar 'Light' and 'Dark' are. He has chosen the Dark and to remain with me.

Being without for so long has left him sensitive and with a case of Separation Anxiety, so I have deepened our bond forged on the night he was orphaned, thus giving him a definite way to feel me, where I am, how I am.

Turning around in his arms, I pull him up and kiss him thoroughly. He relaxes into the kiss, though his hands remain clenched in my robes. Deciding to take a little risk, he lets go of my robes to wrap his arms around my neck and mould his body to mine again, tempting me with his body. His method is disturbingly effective since I'm losing my will to leave, to resist. I just want to sink back into him and I barely realize that he's stripped me and I'm back on the bed. He lowers himself on me, hands on my shoulders and kissing me as I grip his hips.

Maybe staying a little longer would be good.

_**END**_

_**AN**: Another lame one. I also think it's a little disjointed, but I'm not touching this for a good long while. It's done, dammit! . _


End file.
